


Kenny's Birthday

by icandigfreckles



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, Kennys birthday, Underage Drinking, hints of bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandigfreckles/pseuds/icandigfreckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny spends his seventeenth birthday thinking about the changes him and his friends will go through during the next year and as they grow older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kenny's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first South Park fic, so let me know how I did! :)

Kenny woke up to the normal sounds of his home on a Tuesday morning. Kevin had the T.V. up too loud in the living room, and his father was shouting at him to turn it down. He could hear his mother’s shrill, shrieking voice through his thin bedroom walls as she called for Karen to eat her breakfast already.

He rolled over on his side to look at the alarm clock, coated with NASCAR stickers he decorated it with when he was younger. The forest green numbers blinking back at him said it was 7:15 in the morning.

Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the cold floor that bit at his barefeet like puppy teeth. He padded out to the hallway in his underwear.

The bathroom was colder. He just prayed that the water would be warm.

Once the spray hitting his open palm turned into a mixture between hot and cold, he jumped into the tub. The noise that came out of his mouth wasn’t far off from orgasmic as the water turned into a sweet, blissful, warmth.

The water drowned his hair and back until it slowly started to go back to cold again. He gritted his teeth as though if he pouted their water would turn back and let him stay in here just a little bit longer. But he was already going to be late for school, and his fingers were getting pruned. Not even to mention that he had already been inside for so long that the clogged shower drain was keeping the water pooling around his ankles.

He twisted the nozzle off and stepped out. Water sloshed out onto the tile.

“Kenny!” His mother was pounding on the door, “Kenny, dammit, get to school!”

He swore under his breath, wrapping a towel around his waist.

He went to the sink, finding his toothbrush and pressing against the tube of toothpaste to get out the last remains of Crest.

The face that stared back at him through the foggy mirror was worn out. He suddenly found it hard to believe that this face could have once belonged to a wide-eyed, bruised up nine year old. For seventeen he sure felt old.

He left the bathroom and went back to his room, grabbing his orange pants and parka.

There was a knock on his door as he was digging around in his closet for his brown boots.

He picked up his head, seeing Karen in the doorway. Her green jacket buttoned up to her chin, and her backpack hanging from one shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Kenny,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks, Karen,” he said, smirking, “but shouldn’t you already be at the bus stop?”

“I’ll walk with you.”

Kenny shot her a look, but Karen shrugged it off.

“It’s okay, I don’t have any tardies. Besides, teachers expect you to be late at least once. It’s healthy.”

Kenny snorted as he started lacing up his boots. “Where’d you hear that?”

“You.” She said.

Kenny stood up to look at his baby sisters impish face. All he could think about was that she was growing up too fast, and turning into too much like him.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t listen to everything I tell ya, sis.”

She followed him out of his bedroom and down the hall. They walked through the clouds of cigarette smoke, and kicked crushed cans of Pabst out of their way to get to the front door.

It was snowing outside. Not too bad, but there was already a good layer of white dust covering their porch and the sidewalk.

Kenny flipped up the hood of his parka. Karen stayed at his side, digging in her pocket for something. She pulled it out a moment later. A silver wrapper that had been torn haphazardly at the top.

“I grabbed you breakfast,” she said.

Kenny took it, “Thanks,” he said. He took a bite of the brown sugar poptart.

“I would have made you breakfast,” she then mumbled, looking down at the snow and slush, “but I slept through my alarm.”

Kenny frowned, mid-chew. Karen looked back at him, her face almost identical to his own.

“What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to make me breakfast.”

She slugged him hard in the arm.

“Hey!” He barked.

“You’re an idiot,” said Karen, “you deserve the world, you know that?”

Kenny rolled his eyes at her.

“Let’s just get to school, okay?”

He took another angry bite of the pop tart as Karen’s arm instinctively wrapped around his own. It had become a habit of hers ever since that time they were taken away by the social worker. Kenny really only noticed it on the days she didn’t do it, and now those were becoming more common than the days she did.

They walked to school together with their arms linked. Only separating finally when they got to the front doors.

“See you after school, Kenny,” she said, giving him a little wave over her shoulder when she walked away.

Kenny returned one, walking in the opposite direction.

He hung out by his locker until the bell rang. Kyle was coming out of his first hour, slinging books at his side and talking to Wendy Testaburger. He imagined it was either something to do with Stan, or some debate where Cartman was the opposing side.

Kyle spotted Kenny when he was three steps away from his locker.

“Kenny!” His face lit up at once, and he hurriedly said goodbye to Wendy.

Kyle ran up to him, weaving through the crowd of students clogging the hallway.

“Happy birthday, dude!”

Kenny smiled under his hood. “Thanks.”

“Stan really wants me to drink tonight,” Kyle rolled his eyes, but there was an endearing catch in his voice, “but I don’t know. It’s a school night.”

“Do what you want, dude,” said Kenny, “I probably won’t drink too much. Butters and Karen will be there anyways, and I feel weird drinking around them.”

Kyle frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “they’re just…so innocent.”

“And I’m not?”

Kenny laughed, thumping Kyle on the shoulder. He slung his arm around Kyle and pulled him back down the hallway towards their next class.

“Ky, you’re the last person I’d peg as innocent.”

“Whatever, dude,” said Kyle, “you’re one to talk. I don’t remember you ever being innocent.”

“Never was,” admitted Kenny, “fresh out of the womb I was a dirty little boy.”

“Sick!”

Kyle laughed and squirmed out of Kennys grasp.

They continued walking to their class while others in the hall shouted their happy birthdays at Kenny while they passed. Bebe, Jimmy, Butters, Tweek, Craig, even too-cool-for-you-Clyde-Donovan. Kenny flashed each of them a smile and a thanks from under his orange parka.

He didn’t see Stan or Eric until lunch.

He walked with Butters into the cafeteria. Butters was slinging his sack lunch his mother still packed him every other day and chittering away happily about the latest updates on the Kardashians. Kenny carrying the blue plastic lunch tray that held up his free school lunch. The McCormicks applied for their kids to get free lunch from the schools when Kenny was in third and he’s eaten the same lunch every school day since. Those lame PB&J smucker’s sandwiches, a carton of chocolate milk, carrots, and tapioca pudding.

While Butters talked away Kenny simply smiled behind his hood and listened. He couldn’t give two shits about what those people were up to, but it made Butters happy to have someone listen to him for once in his life.

They sat down at their lunch table. Cartman had a slice of chocolate cake sitting in a Tupperware box in front of his lunchbox, and for half a second Kenny actually believed it could have been for him. But then he remembered that this was Eric Cartman.

“Hey, dude,” Stan beamed up at him, his mouth full of turkey luncheon meat and mustard, “happy birthday!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Stan,” said Kyle.

Kenny just laughed, tearing open the purple and white wrapper of his smuckers uncrustable.

“Thanks, Stan.”

“Say, Eric,” said Butters, leaning halfway across the table to point at the cake in his Tupperware, “is that for Kenny?”

Eric shot him a death glare that had Butters melting back to his seat in embarrassment.

“No,” Cartman snapped, “why the fuck would it be for him?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Because it’s his birthday, jackass,” he said, “usually you give your friends gifts and cake on their birthdays. Butters forgot though that your mother still makes sure to give you presents on other kids birthdays so you don’t throw a tantrum.”

Cartmans fists clenched around his Mountain Dew can as he whipped his head around at Kyle. His small, beady eyes ticking away like the gas on Kennys stove. His eyes were as blue as the fire too.

“I’m not giving Kenny shit because why the fuck should I give handouts to poor people?”

Stans soft and happy face instantly turned into the fierce and hard one that usually hid behind his football mask during games.

“You’re such a dick, Cartman,” he simply muttered.

“What?” He sputtered, “What the fuck did I do?”

Kyle then slammed his sandwich down on the table (making sure it didn’t touch the actual table but his napkin) before leaning across Stan to yell into Cartmans face.

“I’ll tell you what, fatass–” he began, his cheeks already turning as red as the curls of hair that stuck out of his ushanka.

Kenny didn’t care to listen to the rest of their conversation. It was practically routine by now. He took a bored bite out of his PB&J, one cheek resting in his hand and his elbow digging into the table top. Butters sat next to him, rubbing his knuckles together and simply watching Kyle and Cartman bicker back and forth with his pupils flicking around like ping pong balls in the whites of his eyes. Stan got into it too with Eric, ignoring the fact that Kenny was completely unaffected by Cartmans comment about the cake. Like the Kardashians, Kenny couldn’t really give a horse’s worth of crap what Cartman said about him anymore. Because it was Cartman. 

Besides, if Kenny really wanted that cake he totally would have stolen it while Cartman was fighting with Kyle. Because not only does Ms. Cartman make the best chocolate cake in the world, it would have been hilarious to see the look on Erics face when he realized what had become of his precious lunchtime dessert. It totally would have been worth all the cursing out poor people garbage that would have been spewing out of Erics fat face.

But he wasn’t feeling all that mischievous today.

Instead he looked out across the cafeteria to the windows and daydreamed about when spring would come. It had been nice out the last couple of weeks, but it was supposed to end up snowing all day and throughout the night.

He took another bite of his sandwich, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He thought about the basketball court black top and ripped jeans. Bloody knees and noses, and the sound the chain made with every basket Kyle made. He thought of Stan cupping his hands around his mouth, fake shouting, “And that’s another score for Broflovski, the crowd is really going wild tonight!” and that was Kennys cue to start cheering, tossing his arms up in the air like a cheerleader. He reminded himself that he’d have to make sure Kyle brought his own ball the next time they played.

He gripped the strings of his hood and tightened it as a breeze went through the cafeteria.

He couldn’t help but think about how he only had another year of this left. One last year before these guys make South Park feel half empty.

X

He continued thinking about it when Karen lit the candles on his cake.

By this time next year Stan and Kyle will probably be planning on the dorms they’ll be staying in, and Kyle will already have it all color schemed. He could picture Cartman bragging about how much his school will be costing him, but he won’t have to worry about debt like Kyle and Stan. Butters will have his art portfolio ready and have millions of art schools handing him scholarships to come to them.

Kenny threw back his head to down the last of his Pabst.

His parents were out of the house and so was Kevin. Stan, Kyle, Butters and Cartman sat around the kitchen table with him. Kenny broke out the Pabst and his secret stash from under his bed when Stan got to his house, because he knew Stan would really be the only one drinking. He was a little surprised when Stan handed Kyle a can and Kyle opened it to take a swig like it was Dr. Pepper. He was still nursing that same can of Pabst while Stan was hardly getting tipsy on his third.

Butters wouldn’t touch the stuff, and Cartman snorted at the thought of drinking ‘poor people beer’. But when he saw Stan and Kyle drinking he decided he should at least have one drink.

Kenny wasn’t going to let it get out of hand. It wasn’t like they were having some crazy party tonight–it was only his birthday and he wasn’t going to let them walk home in a snowstorm because they were all too wasted to drive. He supposed Butters could drive them all, but then his parents would probably ground him.

The candles on the cake had been sitting in a cupboard with all the others from past birthdays. Half melted, and the wick split in half. The one was blue and the seven was orange. Karen had made the cake herself. It was funfetti, baked inside a brownie pan and coated with pale blue frosting.

When Karen set her cake on the table Kenny made sure to keep an eye on Eric. He already had one hand bundled in a fist for when he needed to knock him out if he said one word about Karens cake and poor people. For his own sake though he managed to hold his trap shut.

Karen plopped down on the chair next to Kenny, her face glowing by the candle light. Stan started them off singing ‘Happy Birthday’, and at the end of it Kenny felt himself actually smile without forcing himself to.

He blew out the candles as Butters cheered for him to, “Make a wish!”

“What’d you wish for?” Butters asked.

“For Cartmans ass to stop being so big,” he lied.

The table cracked up, except for Cartman who growled between his teeth, “Hey! My ass isn’t any fatter than yours, Kenny!”

“Kenny’s like the skinniest guy here,” said Stan, “you could probably eat three of him, fatboy.”

“Yeah right,” Cartman scoffed at the idea, “like I’d ever eat trash.”

Kenny watched Karens smile fall flat out of the corner of his eye, and he made a mental note to bring it up later that Cartman didn’t mean anything by it. Even though he usually did.

Kyle broke the tension by offering to cut the cake.

The cake was a little burnt on the outside, but it didn’t taste so bad with all the frosting. Nobody said anything about it besides Cartman, but Kenny didn’t think Karen could hear him.

Everyone else ate one piece alongside the strawberry ice cream the McCormicks had already had sitting in the fridge, but Kenny ate three.

He scraped his wrist along the side of his mouth to wipe off the frosting.

Outside, the wind howled.

“It’s really coming down now,” Kyle noted, looking past the bars on the windows.

“Yeah,” added Stan, between sips of his Pabst, “my mom said it would tonight.”

“Think there’ll be a snow day, fellas?” asked Butters in that sickly sweet puppy voice. His smile as genuine as it would be if someone told him they loved his tap dancing.

“God,” said Cartman, leaning against the table with his hand holding his fat cheek, “lets hope so.”

Karen whipped her head around. Her brown eyes wide and as sweet as they ever were. Her thin face was blanketed with concern. He saw more and more of their mother in that face everyday. The cheekbones, her small nose and round chin. The same freckles dusting her nose that he had, and the chapped lips. These things all belonged to their mother. It was her eyes though that were completely and originally Karen.

“You think the roads will be okay, Kenny?” she asked.

He knew she was worried about their parents and Kevin driving home. They never did shit for her, but bless her heart she’d hand over the world for all of them in a heartbeat. She was funny that way.

“They’ll be fine, Karen.” he said, “they’ve been driving on these roads for a long time. They’re used to it.”

She nodded, though seeming unconvinced. She was getting too smart for him. She wasn’t a baby anymore.

“Should we open presents now?” Asked Butters.

“Oh, yeah!” Karen hopped off her chair, forgetting all about the snowstorm outside.

Kenny rolled his eyes, saying sternly, “I told you guys that you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I listened.” said Cartman.

“What?” Kyle turned to glare at him, “you didn’t get him anything?”

Cartman scoffed, “No. He told me not to.”

“Just because he says to doesn’t mean you should show up to his party without a present you dick!” Kyle barked.

“You call Kenny your best friend and you don’t get him anything?” added Stan.

“Hey, I’m a better friend than you assholes,” said Cartman, “I listen to Kenny!”

Kyle slammed his hands on the table, his temper rising visually in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick and I can’t believe Kenny actually–!”

“Stop fighting, Jesus Christ!” Kenny yelled back, “Isn’t it enough that I have to live with that shit?”

Kyle slowly lowered himself back down onto the seat of his chair, looking slightly guilty but the red anger still blushing his face. “Sorry, Kenny.” he said softly.

Kenny sighed, pressing his back against the open space of the chair that used to be held up by bars, but has been missing them ever since the incident where his father threw it against the wall in a drunken rage. Only two kept it from turning into a stool. Every time he leaned back it still creaks.

“Lets just open presents.”

Karen’s quiet socked feet shuffled back into the kitchen. Her arms were full with boxes stuffed under her arms. Kenny could already guess whose belonged to who. The Broncos wrapping paper was the same Stan had on his presents for Christmas, and Kyle had gone for a simple theme of orange and white polka-dots. Butters present was wrapped with Snoopy and Woodstock, and then there was another wrapped in newspaper. Kenny bit the inside of his lip when he saw it.

“Karen–”

She didn’t give him time to call her out on it. He hated it when she spent her money on him and she knew it.

Karen tossed the presents on the table, shoving Stans gift in his face and chanting, “Open this one! Open it! Open it!”

He gave her a look before taking the box from her hands. The rest of them watched him shred the wrapping paper with enthusiasm. They looked at him like he was a puppy playing with a kitten for the first time.

He felt sick in his stomach.

He opened the box to see that Stan got him a new basketball that he’s been wanting. They had been using the old one since elementary school, and it had finally met its end in January when Cartman sat on it and made it too flat to bounce. Kenny chucked it over the fence and it’s been sitting there for two months now. He sees it everyday when he walks to the bus stop and it makes him think about all the HORSE they played with it, the games where Kyle would end up giving Cartman a bloody nose, and the time it got stuck on the rim and Kenny climbed up the back of the pole and swung from the hoop like Tarzan while Stan cheered and Kyle worried about him breaking his neck. 

He held the new basketball in his hands. The smell of clean leather stung his nose, making him realize how much he loved that smell of dirt and love that was on the old one.

Stan shifted in his seat awkwardly when Kenny didn’t say anything.

“You like it right?” he said, “I thought it was what you wanted.”

“No, it’s awesome, dude,” said Kenny, picking up his head and shooting him a smile. He set the ball in his lap, “I really wanted a new one. Thanks, Stan.”

Stans face relaxed, and he seemed to melt back against his chair. “Maybe we can play tomorrow after school.”

“If we have school,” said Cartman.

“Yeah, I’ve been itching to play!” added Kyle, completely ignoring Eric’s comment.

Kenny rubbed his thumbs back and forth across the bumps.

“Sure.”

He reached for Kyles present next. He never knew what to expect from Kyle besides knowing that it would be something he really thought Kenny would enjoy. The paper tumbled to the tile floor below, looking like orange and white flames licking against his chair. It was a couple of CDs and a Polaroid camera.

“I got you rolls of film too,” Kyle explained, looking at Kenny with his eyes round and hopeful like they always were when he opened one of his presents.

Kenny raised the camera to his eyes, squinting his left eye closed and aiming the lense at his friends. At the sight of the camera being pointed at his face, Butters struck his go-to gummy smile. Stan stuck his middle finger under his eyelid and pulled it down, sticking out his tongue between his teeth. Kyle gave devil horns with one hand and bunny ears to Stan with the other, his cheeks puffed and eyes crossed. Cartman looked bored while sticking his tongue between two fingers.

“Classy, boys.” said Kenny. He was half laughing while he snapped the picture, and laughed even harder when it fully developed.

“Thanks, Kyle,” he said, “I love it.”

“Open mine next, Kenny!” Butters hopped in his seat, inching his present closer to him with his finger.

Kenny opened it.

“Gosh, I hope you like it.” said Butters before Kenny could even comprehend what he was holding in front of him.

Clasped in his hands was a shark tooth necklace.

Kenny looked up at Butters slowly. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or pretend to like it.

Cartman busted out in his obnoxious laugh before Kenny could open his mouth. “What the hell kinda gay shit is that?”

Butters blushed, his head sinking slightly into his blue sweater. He looked so small and so much younger than he actually was.

“It–it was from when Kenny and I went to Hawaii together,” he explained softly, “I found it in my room a while ago and I thought he’d like to have it back.”

“ Butters you’re so gay it’s unbeliev–”

“I’ve been looking for this actually,” said Kenny, holding the necklace up in the flickering light. He let it dangle between his fingers, “I thought it was lost forever. Thanks, Butters.”

Butters’ face lit back up. His quirky-cute smile making Kennys insides feel like they were glowing. “You’re welcome, Ken!”

Cartman groaned again, “God, Kenny, can’t you at least wait till I leave to start making out with Butters?”

Kenny shot him a dry look. It was probably his fifth warning of the night and the next time Kenny swore he was going to kick him in the balls.

“Stop being an asshole, Cartman,” said Stan.

“Yeah,” said Kyle, “at least Butters got him something.”

Cartman muttered something under his breath, but no one cared enough to listen to what it was.

There was only one present left on the table now. The one wrapped crudely in newspaper funnies and scotch tape. Karens name was written in her swirly twirly handwriting with sharpie. He looked at her with a slight frown on his face. She shoved his shoulder lightly, smiling.

“Just open it. You can be mad later, kay?”

He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, decapitating the members of the Family Circus and Garfield.

Karen might know him the best out of everyone here at the table, and he was already guessing a list of all the things she could have gotten him. But he found himself dumbstruck when he opened the shoe box. 

Inside was a purple baseball cap. Looking clean, and the bill flat. Stitched on the front was a bright green question mark. 

Kenny held it up, looking at it with his mouth parted in astonishment.

“Karen…I…”

“Don’t you remember?” She leaned closer to him, her eyes on the cap, “When you guys used to play superheroes?”

Kenny blinked, tearing his eyes away from his present and looking at her. His heart beating and mouth falling open. He had never told her the truth about Mysterion.

“You knew about Myster–me? You knew?”

She shrugged, “I found the outfit in your closet when I was ten. Not that I wouldn’t have figured it out eventually.”

Kenny laughed, putting the cap on his head, but twisting it around because one time Karen told him he looked more like their dad if he wore a ball cap the right way around. Besides, he felt tougher with it flipped. Strands of blonde hair poked out of the hole above the adjuster.

“Yeah, you would’ve. You’re really smart,” he said, “Thanks, Karen, I love it.”

She hugged his arm just like she always does.

“You’re welcome.”

“Where did you get this thing anyway?”

“Stan helped me find it online.” she said.

“Yep,” said Stan, “it was custom made and everything.”

“We know you told us not to get you anything, Kenny,” said Karen, squeezing his arm tighter, “but we couldn’t get you nothin’ cause–cause you’re worth more than that.”

Kenny looked at his friends and then back to Karen, his smile falling and then returning in a matter of seconds. He looked down at the basketball in his lap and the picture on the table. His heart felt full.

“Thanks, guys,” he said softly, “thanks…”

They started watching Jurassic World soon after this. But the storm picked up and Kyles mother called to tell him to come home as soon as he could. Kyle took Stan home with him, both of them wishing Kenny another happy birthday as they braved the cold mountain snow. Stan was half stumbling out the door. Butters went home soon after when he realized what time it was.

“Oh Jesus!” He had said, fumbling for his cellphone and skimming over texts, “ah, heck, I better get home, Ken. I don’t want my parents to ground me.”

Kenny told him he understood, and bid him goodbye as well.

Karen fell asleep on the couch a half hour into the movie.

Kenny and Cartman sat in silence with only the occasional stupid comment about the obvious plot holes in the movie. Kenny found himself laughing at Cartmans stupid jokes. It could have been because he was still warm from the Pabst though.

He looked up at the clock in the kitchen. It was close to eleven thirty.

“It’s getting late,” Kenny told him, “you should go home before the storm gets any worse.”

Cartman grunted and got to his feet. He shuffled over to the kitchen to grab his coat off the chair. Without turning around, he spoke.

“I’ll take you to Casa Bonita on Saturday.”

“You don’t have to Cartman. I really don’t care if you got me a present or not. You know that.”

“I just remembered my mom told me I could take someone, okay?” he grumbled, “nothin’ to do with your birthday. I’m just…you’re the only kid in South Park who isn’t an asshole and I’m bein’ nice, dammit.”

“Okay, Eric.”

Cartman went to the front door, pulling his hat over his ears and shoving on his mittens. The keys to his truck dangling on a Duck Dynasty lanyard. He gave one last look over at Kenny and his sleeping sister.

“Happy birthday, Kenny.”

“Thanks, dude. Still playing basketball tomorrow with us, right?”

Cartman nodded, and then he left.

Karen was sleeping silently against Kennys shoulder. She may have been thin, but she was dead weight against Kenny and was making his arm fall asleep. He wiggled slowly out from Karens grasp and shifted her over onto a pillow propped against the arm of the couch. He pulled off the blanket that covered the top of the couch and laid it across her balled up figure.

He turned off the T. V.

He didn’t realize how warm Karen was keeping him until he got up. It was below freezing in the house, and he grabbed his parka off the hook at the front door before walking into the kitchen. The space heater had died again, so he threw back his foot and kicked it until it ran again. It sputtered and coughed but it was still keeping the house warm enough that none of them got frostbite during the night. Still, he grabbed Karen’s mittens and went back to put them over her fingers. He wasn’t going to let his sister freeze to death during an ice storm.

As he was finishing pulling the fabric over her small hand, a stream of light came in through the window and glowed on her soft sleeping face. Kenny turned to look over his shoulder, half glaring at whoever it was that would dare disturb his sleeping baby sister at this time of night.

He went to the window and looked out past the splatter of snow whipping through the air. Kevin’s truck was parked cock-eyed in the driveway. The drivers side door was open and he was leaning out of it, turning the fresh white snow yellow.

Kenny rolled his eyes and stormed out to the porch.

“Hey, fuck face,” he shouted against the wind, squinting out at the image of his brother stumbling out of his truck and falling into a snowbank.

Kevin picked up his head. His face sporting a beard that was both snow and remaining pieces of his dinner.

“Heeeeyy,” Kevin slurred, “it’s Kenny!”

“Yeah.”

Kenny was beside him now and still debating whether or not he should leave him outside to sleep.

“Did’ja start the party without me?”

“Yep.”

Kevin’s face fell, along with his head and shoulders.

“Awww…”

Kenny just rolled his eyes, bending down to grab Kevin under his armpit and lift him up. Kevin was bigger than Kenny in almost every form, so it was a bit of a struggle to drag him through the snow.

“Okay, Kev,” said Kenny through gritted teeth, “help me out here a little bit, dude.”

Kevin tried to walk, but his stumbling only made it harder.

Eventually they got to the front door and back into the house where Karen was thankfully still sleeping peacefully. He sighed with relief and then shouldered his big brother onto his back. The added dead weight of Kevin was crippling, but it wasn’t anything Kenny couldn’t do.

Kevin groaned softly against the back of Kennys neck.

“Dude,” he bit, “if you puke on me I’m tossing you back outside.”

Kevin let out what Kenny thought sounded like a chuckle. Then he said, “Hey…you gotta a hat on.”

“Birthday present.” Kenny grunted.

“Oh…” he said, “I was gonna…get you a chocolate bar…in my truck.”

“Don’t bother.”

Kenny toed their bedroom door open and shuffled to Kevins bed, tossing him onto the mattress and rolling him on his stomach. He threw the blankets on top of him, more carelessly than he had set Karens.

He sat on the foot of the bed to take a breather.

“Kenny…” Kevin mumbled.

“What.”

“You’re a shithead sometimes,”

“Takes one to know one, douche eater.”

He wondered if Kevin even registered he had replied. He didn’t even know if he was sobering up, or if he even knew what he was saying. The next thing he said didn’t clear anything up.

“Happy birthday.”

Kenny slapped the back of Kevins thigh twice, forcing a smile, though Kevin wasn’t even looking at him.

“Thanks, Kevin.”

Kevin started snoring moments after.

He got up off the mattress and went across the room to his own. The broken railroad crossing light blinked through the window, coating his skin red. Even though his eyes burned when he closed them, he didn’t feel much like sleeping. 

He tossed over to his side, looking at the blinking forest green numbers on the alarm clock. It was 11:56. Only three minutes of birthday left, and he’d just be another seventeen year old kid living in South Park.

He thought about Kyle turning seventeen in a month. And then Butters will be the first of them to be eighteen. And next year they’ll all be applying for colleges and scholarships while Kenny will probably get a job and be stuck in South Park for the rest of his life. He could say he was working on his music, but then he’d just turn into Randy Marsh. Which felt worse than saying he was turning into his own Pop.

They’d all promise to be friends forever just like they had been promising since they were in daycare, and Kenny used to actually believe it. But now as they were getting closer to that drop off he knew it was too good to be true. It just wasn’t realistic. Kyle already had plans to go out of state for college, and scouts were always watching Stan during football games. Even Butters and Cartman were thinking about finding a school somewhere far away from this white trash town and their parents. Kenny though, he was going to be stuck here taking care of his mom and his brother. Karen would leave him too in a few years. She was too smart for this town, she would find someone better than Kenny to take care of her one day, or she’d eventually realize she could take care of herself. Kenny though, he’ll still be here. And every time he’d walk past the basketball court he’d have to see his old brown ball sitting there in the weeds. And maybe every time he’d see it it’d hurt a little less, but it’d still hurt every time. They’d forget about him, and wishing on birthday candles wasn’t going to change that.

He dug into the tattered pocket of his orange Broncos sweatpants, pulling out the Polaroid picture of the guys at the dinner table.

He smiled while looking at it. Feeling tears poking at the corner of his eyes like needles as he tried not to let himself cry over a pussy thing like that.

He set the picture up against his alarm clock so it would be the first thing he saw in the morning.

The clock read midnight.

Kenny closed his eyes, thinking about how he was going to kick Stans ass in basketball tomorrow, and fell asleep.


End file.
